


Up in the mountains

by morporkian_hobbit



Category: Lupin III
Genre: (sort of - for Lupin and Jigen), (sort of), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Polyamory, it's hard to be in love with both of your partners, jigen is gay and oblivious, main ship is jigen and goemon the others are secondary, more or less OT3, the point is jigen has two hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morporkian_hobbit/pseuds/morporkian_hobbit
Summary: Jigen got shot during a job. Despite his insistence that he is fine, Lupin has decided that the gunman should take a vacation with Goemon to rest and heal. The plan was just to take a week off and tend to his wounds. What wasn't planned, though, is what being alone with Goemon would do to the gunman's heart.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke, Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III
Comments: 12
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic in a sudden rush of inspiration. Jigen and Goemon are my drug lately, and I wanted to share the happy feels. I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Many thanks to my beta J. , for his corrections and his comments, to Aime for answering all my questions about Japan, and to C. for their support and an idea that I shamelessly stole (with their blessing).
> 
> I don't think there's any triggering content but if you want me to check for a specific trigger don't hesitate to ask.

“I packed your bag. We’re leaving.”

Jigen’s eyes glanced up from the newspaper he had been reading – no, staring at without seeing it for the past five minutes – to look at Goemon. The samurai was standing in the doorway, looking straight at him and holding out a duffle bag in one hand, face unreadable as always.

Jigen sighed.

Goemon had been trying to get him out of Tokyo for the past day and a half, without much success. Sure, Jigen had been shot during their last heist. Sure, his shoulder hadn’t really healed yet. Sure, the other gang that had been after the loot was still looking for them. But the wound was just a scratch, this flat was safe, and the gunman knew he’d be back in shape in no time. Those goons had better watch their backs because he was coming for them.

“Goemon. I told you already, I don’t need a vacation. I’m _fine-_ “

“It’s not a vacation” Lupin suddenly intervened, poking his head from behind Goemon’s broad shoulders. “I need you two to run an errand for me out in the country, while I sort some things out here.”

Goemon solemnly nodded. Jigen narrowed his eyes and stared at his friends’ faces, trying as hard as possible to read them. Goemon’s expression was that of a marble statue, smooth and honest and completely impossible to decipher. Lupin was looking at him with an air of childish innocence, which usually meant mischief, but with him there was always something afoot, so that didn’t mean much.

Well. If Lupin needed them to do some work for him… At least that would distract Jigen from the apathy of waiting for that blasted gun wound to heal. He set his newspaper down on the armrest and swiftly threw his legs over the edge of the sofa before standing up in one quick motion.

“I could have packed that bag myself, you know,” he mumbled as he walked towards Goemon and relieved him of the duffle bag. He groaned as the weight of it pulled on his bad shoulder, while Goemon had been holding it with one hand and seemingly no effort. _God, that thing is heavy!_ _What the hell did he put in it?_

“Thanks so much Jigen, you’re a life-saver!” Lupin cooed, the pecked him on the lips when he walked by.

The gunman grumbled something, for the image, but couldn’t help an amused smile. Lupin was always exaggerating everything and, well, technically Jigen _was_ working for him, so it was only normal that he’d do what Lupin told him. But they had been partners for years now and even though Lupin was the brains in their little gang, it didn’t mean he was above the others. And Jigen knew by now that even an over-the-top declaration like this one hid real feelings, and that Lupin truly was grateful for his help. He said it often enough that Jigen could accept it as true. Besides, Jigen just couldn’t refuse anything when the thief was giving him the sad puppy eyes.

“Don’t mention it,” the gunman answered nonetheless. Lupin could be thankful once Jigen had done the job. So far he had done nothing more than accept something that was his responsibility anyway. He had felt awfully useless these past days because of his wound. His two partners were taking care of him and staying in hiding to keep him safe, while there was still work to do. It made him feel like a burden.

“Goemon will fill you in during the trip,” Lupin explained as the samurai stepped aside to let Jigen out of the room.

“We’re going to Oume,” Goemon announced later as Jigen sat in the passenger seat of the gang’s little Fiat. Lupin said he wasn’t going to need it, and Goemon disliked public transportation slightly more than he disliked driving. Usually Lupin was the one to drive, and Jigen offered to do so for this trip, but Goemon insisted he’d be fine taking the wheel. The samurai wasn’t a very skilled driver and Jigen suspected he’d have to take over at some point, but for now he could simply relax and enjoy the view. Well, at least he’d enjoy the view once they were out of Tokyo. As for relaxing, it was a bit more complicated as Goemon kept cursing at the other drivers, the traffic jam, the signs, the stop lights, and the road in general. Not cursing as in swearing, either – the samurai never swore. Instead, he was invoking the wrath of the gods on the old lady whose buggy had cut in front of his path as he was about to change lane.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Jigen asked again after stifling a small laugh.

“I’m fine,” said Goemon who was clearly fuming behind his calm and relaxed façade.

“What does Lupin want us to do in Oume, anyways? It’s in the middle of nowhere. What’s of interest to him over there?”

Oume wasn’t exactly in the middle of nowhere but it was at the limit between the urban area surrounding Tokyo, and a vast national park where only a few small villages and a couple of farmers attested that humans even existed. To a city-dweller like Jigen, that was indeed the middle of nowhere.

“Lupin got in contact with a former member of the band we’re up against,” Goemon explained. “He knows some of his old colleagues’ hideouts and wants to get back at them for double-crossing him, so he’s willing to help us.”

“Why don’t we just phone him, instead of driving all the way to the middle of butt fuck nowhere?

“The man doesn’t want to take any risks and insisted on meeting us in person.”

Jigen pulled his hat over his eyes and fiddled with an unlit cigarette.

“That sounds an awful lot like a trap to me,” he muttered.

Not that he was worried, but he would rather know what sort of danger he was getting into before diving into the action.

“Lupin wouldn’t have sent us there if he thought there was too much of a risk,” Goemon reassured him. “With Zantetsuken and your Magnum, we’re as prepared as we need to be.”

The samurai spoke confidently, and Jigen could find no trace of doubt or apprehension in his voice. That utter certainty calmed and grounded him. He knew they both trusted Lupin with their lives. If he said something was safe – well, relatively safe, considering they were criminals chasing information about other criminals and being chased by the police – then it was safe. They knew him and trusted him, and would follow him to the end of the Earth if needed - Jigen especially.

Lupin had stood in his path at a time when Jigen felt he was losing himself and offered him an alternative to the life of violence and vice that was laying before him. He had opened a new door for him, and led him down a road that was nowhere near peaceful or easy, but still felt like the right path to Jigen. It felt like home. There were challenges, and danger, but it was all his own choice now. He wasn’t being pushed around and directed by fear or need. And if Lupin was the leader of their little group, he had proven many times that he deserved this role. Lupin was…

Well, Lupin was a crook, a thief, a little bastard who played games with the whole world; he was a pain in the ass, highly annoying at times, and a shameless womanizer who regularly lost all his braincells to the women he loved. Well, to be fair, mostly to Fujiko. She stole his wits as easily as she stole his gold, which she did way too often for Jigen’s liking.

But despite all that, he was also the smartest man that Jigen had ever met. No matter how many times he saw Lupin come up with a weird and convoluted plan to steal a famous diamond or a load of cash or a precious artifact, no matter how long he tried to dissect the reasoning behind his plots to try to understand how he had found such crazy and brilliant ideas, every time he was baffled. Every time, Lupin outwitted everyone: the banks, the vault makers, the police, and most of all his own companions. He had saved his friends countless times and turned around situations that had seemed hopeless (regardless of the fact that half of those times he had been the one who had gotten them in trouble in the first place). Despite being a criminal, he still had his own crooked sense of honour that he would always defend with all his might. He may be a thief, but he was still a gentleman. And Jigen loved him for that.

Jigen loved him for a lot of things, in fact.

When they had first met and started working together, that feeling was just mutual respect between associates, tinted with a lot of admiration on Jigen’s side. From business partners they had become friends, and that bond had grown into a strange kind of love that the gunman didn’t try to put words on. Some might have said they were like brothers, but brothers don’t usually have sex, live in the same messy flat, share their food or run away from the police together. These were all things they did, and there was still so much more than just a shared life between them. A relationship would be one way to put it, even though Jigen wasn’t sure Lupin was as committed to it as he was – not that it mattered to the gunman’s uncontrollable feelings.

That love extended to Goemon as well, in a different kind of way. Jigen loved and admired – nearly idolized - Lupin, and felt more like a brother to the samurai. Probably because they often had to team up against their partner’s bullshit and babysit him half of the time – when Lupin wasn’t being a genius, he was a complete idiot. Yet for all the time they shared they didn’t know each other very well. Goemon didn’t speak much, and neither did Jigen for that matter. The samurai occasionally took long trips away from the city, intensive training sessions during which he left Jigen and Lupin alone together for weeks, months sometimes. It was when he came back that Jigen realized how much he had missed his partner. Not that he’d ever say anything about it, though. His feelings were none of anyone’s business.

Jigen’s eyes left the road-side panorama for a moment to gaze at the face of his friend, who was now silently driving, mind wandering somewhere far from here. Sometimes Jigen wondered what he thought. What he felt. Of course, actions spoke louder than words, and in Goemon’s case just spoke more often; both Jigen and Lupin knew how much the samurai cared about them. He had proven countless times that he’d be ready to fight anyone to defend his partners, and it was anyone’s guess how far he’d be willing to go for them. Yet… Jigen still didn’t know if it was a matter of honour for Goemon, or if genuine friendship motivated his actions. The samurai always hid his emotions, spoke in cryptic ways, kept a face as smooth and unreadable as stone most of the time. Jigen knew there were feelings somewhere, and that they were strong. But the exact nature of those…

The gunman was pulled away from his reverie by a road sign that flashed by as the car sped up along the highway.

“Hey, Goemon!” he called while he turned back to look at the road behind them. “You missed the exit, Oume was that way!”

There was no response from the samurai, who was still humming quietly along to the radio, eyes on the road. He might as well have not heard Jigen at all.

“Hey pal, you missed it,” the gunman repeated. “We’re gonna have to turn around.”

“Don’t worry, Jigen. I know where I’m going.”

And with these words he kept driving straight ahead, heading further into the mountainous wilderness. Jigen said nothing for a few minutes, assuming that Oume must have just been an approximation of their destination and they were simply heading for a smaller city in its surroundings. Yet the car kept driving, and Goemon showed no sign of exiting the highway. Apprehension was starting to swell up inside Jigen’s chest. Of course, Goemon would never lie and betray his friends, that was an absolute certainty. But he couldn’t just have gotten lost, the sign had been right there and Jigen had pointed out his mistake. Something was up, and even if Jigen had absolutely no reason to be worried, he didn’t like not knowing what was going on.

“Oume is behind us, Goemon. You’re driving us into the mountains, there’s nobody there. Don’t tell me our guy is a hermit?”

“We’re not going to meet anyone,” Goemon answered with a light smile, eyes still not leaving the road.”

“We’re not… What??”

“We’re going on a vacation. I told you that you needed a break, and the prospect of a mission was the only way to get you out of Tokyo. Please forgive me for deceiving you, Jigen, but this is for your own good.”

The gunman’s eyes widened. It was not so much the treachery that surprised him, but the fact that Goemon, of all people, had tricked him. It was not like the samurai to deceive others. Even with his enemies, he was always honest and straightforward – honour and all that jazz. What had gotten into him?

“You can’t just abandon the mission because you think I’m unwell!” Jigen exclaimed. “Lupin needs us to meet that informer and give him the info, and you’re just going to let him fend for himself against those goons while we… we go on a _vacation_? Are you out of your _mind_?”

Goemon shook his head, half disappointed, half amused.

“There is no meeting planned, and there is no informer. Lupin is just going to stay home, watch over the loot and take some time off while we’re away.”

Of course “Lupin is just going to stay home” was a wild guess, they both knew the man was incapable of staying in place without being forcibly held down by his two baby-sitters; but the point of Goemon’s explanation was that Lupin was in on the trickery. At least that explained the lie. Jigen would have a hard time believing that the samurai would willingly lie and manipulate him, without being convinced to do it by Lupin first. That did nothing to sooth Jigen however. Knowing that he’d been tricked by his two closest friends was not something he enjoyed, even if their intentions were good. Especially not in the current situation.

“I’m not incapacitated, Goemon! It’s just a gun wound, I’ve had worse, I can still work!”

Without even turning towards him, Goemon raised his arm and firmly planted a finger on Jigen’s shoulder, right where he had been shot. The gunman couldn’t help but yelp in pain and jump away from his friend.

“What the hell was that for?” he cried out.

“You need rest.” Goemon’s tone was irrevocable, and whether Jigen liked it or not, the sudden pain in his shoulder did make a very compelling point. He fell back into his seat with a groan, a look of defeat painted on his face. Maybe Goemon and Lupin were right, he did need to take a break. He was not in full possession of his faculties, and it would benefit no one if his bad shoulder made him unable to help and screwed up a mission. He hated the fact that they had to physically drag him away from Tokyo to make him understand that, so he just spent the rest of the trip in wounded silence.

Since they had passed the sign pointing to Oume, the urban panorama was slowly giving way to the beautiful wilderness of the Japanese countryside. Despite missing the city, Jigen couldn’t deny that the sights were beautiful. They eventually left the highway to drive into the mountains through tortuous little roads, dominated by miles and miles of heavy rock covered in luxurious vegetation.

The change was also visible on Goemon’s face. He seemed happier now that they were leaving the civilisation behind them, he was smiling and humming a little louder. It was weirdly soothing. Jigen’s offended behaviour was only a façade now and he realised that the idea of spending some time in the mountains, far from any responsibilities, was strangely appealing. He did feel bad for Lupin a little bit, knowing that he might – no, probably would - get in trouble on his own, but it was the man’s own fault for sending him away. And Lupin may be reckless, but not stupid enough to go against an armed gang alone and unprepared. He would just have to wait until his partners’ return, and lay low until then. Or maybe he’d ask Fujiko for help, and end up losing all his share of the treasure. Which, once again, was his problem and not Jigen’s. The gunman decided he wasn’t going to waste his energy worrying about his beloved but idiotic partner.

“What do we do now?” Jigen asked as the car came to a halt in a clearing out of the wood they had just crossed.

Goemon turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car.

“Now, we walk,” he said simply as his friend followed him outside.

It took them another hour of walking along the small mountain pathways, carrying their heavy bags on their backs, before they reached their destination. Jigen hadn’t planned to go hiking in the mountain, and the suit he was wearing was more fitting for the city than the countryside, but he couldn’t very complain when Goemon was walking on a rocky trail in bloody flip-flops and traditional Japanese garments. Of course, the samurai would have been offended if he heard Jigen call his getas “flip-flops”, which is why Jigen kept quiet. _Why are samurais always so freaking extra?_ he thought with an amused smile.

The path was steep and uneven, and Jigen was starting to tire a bit – hours staying seated in a car followed by an unplanned trek up the mountains, paired with his injury, weren’t exactly great for his health. Meanwhile, Goemon showed no sign of fatigue, which came as no surprise. The gunman was about to ask for a break, when they took a turn along the path, and suddenly the view became clear.

Jigen stopped in his tracks for a moment, captivated by the breath-taking view. They had entered a vast clearing, overseeing the entire valley. A small stream was coming out of a spring in the mountain side and lazily zig-zagging through the meadow before disappearing behind a rock. Jigen could hear the rush of water in the distance, suggesting the presence of a waterfall nearby. A few hundred feet away from where he was standing on the path, the ground suddenly disappeared, dropping sharply into the valley and giving way to a magnificent view of the mountains on the other side.

Jigen had never come this far into the countryside, and despite knowing what a mountain looked like, it was another thing entirely to actually see this beautiful landscape with his own eyes.

“Jigen?”

The gunman abandoned the view to turn to his partner. The samurai was standing halfway across the clearing, heading towards a small wooden house that was nested against the mountain.

“I’m coming,” Jigen shouted over the distance, before readjusting his bag and making his way through the grass.


	2. Chapter 2

So this was where Goemon went away when he was training. The place was truly gorgeous, even a city man like Jigen could notice that, and it was exactly the kind of place where he’d imagine an old-timey samurai to live. His partner was a walking breathing anachronism, and always looked out of place in Tokyo or all the other places they travelled to; but here, it seemed as if they had travelled back in time. The samurai fit in perfectly with his surroundings, in this backdrop of nature barely touched by the hand of modern civilisation.

Jigen suddenly realised that Goemon had never brought his partners here, nor had he ever offered to use this place as a safe house. Not that they had ever needed one in this part of the country, there wasn’t much crime to do around here, but it had never come up as an option that was available. Jigen and Lupin had both accepted that this was Goemon’s safe place, and that they had no business following him there. That the habitually secretive and lonely samurai had accepted to share this with his friend, meant a lot to Jigen.

Inside, the house was modest and understated. The sliding door led to a large and illuminated room, very plainly furnished and with a floor of dark shiny wood. The golden light of the afternoon was softened by the paper panes on the windows. Goemon, upon entering the house, immediately took off his getas, and Jigen compelled himself to do the same. He didn’t do it back in the city, but it was a tradition firmly anchored in most households. Goemon was inviting him into his home, it would be impolite to not abide by his rules. Jigen dropped his bag on the floor with a relieved sigh, while the samurai respectfully set Zantetsuken down on its prop on a wall, just above a thin futon pulled out on the other side of the room. A sudden gust of wind pushed a few leaves inside the house, and Jigen hurriedly closed the sliding door behind him. His friend walked back towards him, a light smile on his face.

“Here we are. This house isn’t as equipped as our usual safe-houses, but there is everything you could need here.”

“Wifi?”

“I said need, not want.”

Looking around, Jigen realised this was probably the only room in the whole house – if he excluded the kitchen and the bathroom. Did this place even have a bathroom? Knowing Goemon, he probably showered under an ice-cold waterfall in the mountains and scrubbed himself clean with sand. There was the aforementioned futon in a corner of the room, a large chest next to it, probably containing the house’s meagre collection of appliances, and a tatami in the middle of the room. There was a shrine in a corner, with several small framed photos on it – either Goemon’s old master, or an ancestor of the famous Ishikawa bloodline, Jigen couldn’t tell. Not even a table or a chair in sight. The gunman was suddenly regretting getting in that car earlier. Not that he had known where his friend was leading him, but…

“How long are we staying here?” he asked the samurai.

“Until your wound is healed,” Goemon stated matter-of-factly.

 _Great_. So that could mean three days or a week and a half. Well, better get comfortable and accept that he was going to be cut off from the world all that time. In fact, when Jigen thought about it, it didn’t really seem all that bad, being stuck in such a beautiful place, with such a beautiful man. He had been in worse situations before, and at least here no one was trying to kill him. He’d probably start thinking differently once he had tried the waterfall shower, but for now he could at least make an effort to see the bright side of this situation.

“How long has it been since the last time you took a break?” Goemon asked.

It was almost as if the samurai had read his mind. Jigen was thoughtful for a moment, trying to remember. It couldn’t have been that long ago, right?

“Well, we take breaks in between heists,” he answered after a few seconds.

“They’re not breaks, we’re always on the lookout for a new opportunity or running away from the police. I meant, since the last time you took some time for yourself without thinking about work.”

“Says the guy who is always training. Do _you_ ever take breaks from being a samurai?”

Goemon regarded him with a mix of disbelief and incomprehension.

“That’s not work. It’s who I am.”

Jigen remained silent and bent down to pick up his bag to hide his sudden embarrassment. Goemon was right, and the gunman knew full well how important his training was to him. That’s what he always came back to even when he had nothing. Like Jigen came back to sharp shooting, spending hours practicing his skills, taking care of his weapon, doing stakeouts for no reason other than wanting to feel a ghost of the thrill of the wait, the chase, even when there was no target. It grounded him, made him feel in control. Sometimes he felt he’d be nothing without his skills as a gunman. It was not always a good thought, when it was accompanied by the fear of abandonment, the worry that his partners would throw him aside if he wasn’t good enough. But he hadn’t felt that way for a long time now, not since he had met Lupin and later Goemon. With them, it wasn’t something that made him useful, but something that was useful to him, the bedrock of his entity, what made him feel stable. His partners were the same, Goemon even more so than his two companions.

The samurai must have noticed his unease. He stepped closer to his friend and smiled at him, taking the bag from his hands.

“Now that we’re here, you need to rest. I’ll take care of this.”

He put the duffle bag over his shoulder and walked over to the large chest at the other side of the room, leaving Jigen alone to explore the place.

There wasn’t really much to explore.

Just like the gunman had guessed, there were only two more rooms: the kitchen, and a small storage closet that contained a broom, a few boxes, and a hone. The kitchen itself looked like it came out of a history book. There were a few wooden shelves on the walls supporting pots and pans, a knife rack, a countertop-slash-cutting-board, and a basin which, supposedly, would be filled with water from either the river or a well, which Jigen hadn’t spotted yet. There were even dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and an actual honest to God wood stove. For a moment the gunman felt like he had stepped right into a Ghibli movie.

“Jigen?” Goemon’s voice called out from the other room. “Could you please put some wood in the stove and light a fire?”

“Sure!” Jigen answered, before realising he didn’t have a clue how to do that. Okay, so there were some small wood chunks tucked under the stove… Did Goemon cut them himself using Zantetsuken? It wouldn’t surprise the gunman. _Axes are for wimps, real men cut wood with centuries-old legendary swords._ Jigen chuckled at the thought and bent down to grab a handful of chopped wood and put it in the opening under the stove. He dug out his lighter from the depths of a pocket, then stopped as he realized he couldn’t just set fire to a full log. It took him five minutes of searching through every corner of the kitchen before finding some crumpled paper, stuffing it inside the stove with the wood and lighting it. Goemon entered the kitchen at that moment, just as the fire started crackling and spitting embers. Jigen quickly backed away before one of them could land on his beard and set fire to it.

“Dude, you really live like this?” he asked as he turned to look at his friend with an air of disbelief.

“No electricity,” Goemon replied simply, then walked into the small room and past Jigen to grab a metal pot that was hanging on the wall.

“You could at least use a gas stove.”

“The odour of gasoline would ruin the food and taint the air.”

Jigen shrugged and admitted that there was no way to convince the samurai that modern technology would have its place here. And when he thought about it, electric lights or a gas stove would indeed ruin the atmosphere a bit. This place was as close to living in the wilderness as one could get without actually camping under a tent.

Goemon opened the back door of the kitchen, leading outside again, and walked out with the pot. He quickly crossed the few feet that separated the house from the spring, where he filled it with clear water, then came back in, leaving the door open behind him. Jigen leaned back on the door frame of the living room to give him some space and contented himself with watching him work in comfortable silence. The samurai set the pot down on the slowly heating stove, before kneeling in front of the opening and gently blowing on the flames, making them rise and dance. When he was satisfied with the state of the fire, he stood back up and picked up from a shelf a small teapot made of brown burnished clay. He was handling it with utmost caution, as if it had been a precious artifact to which he owed a deep respect. He then untied a handful of herbs from where they were hanging – Jigen thought he recognized jasmine flowers, but he wasn’t sure – and put it on a wooden tray along with the teapot, two cups of cracked ceramic, and a pestle and mortar. Jigen stepped aside to let him walk out, then watched him set the tray down on the tatami in the middle of the room, ceremoniously align the ceramics and start crushing the herbs. Goemon’s movements were far from being as codified as a traditional tea ceremony, but they were imbued with a feeling of calm and serenity in perfect harmony with the whole place. He stood back up and walked past Jigen again, to retrieve the pot from the stove.

“You should take off your vest and make yourself comfortable,” the samurai declared as he put the steaming pot down on a small wooden square to avoid burning the mat.

Jigen straightened up, feeling like he just came out of a trance. He was still wearing the suit he had spent the whole trip in. The moment was not ideal to unpack his luggage and change, so instead he just put away his vest and loosened his tie. He kept his hat on, an old habit that he didn’t even lose in his own home. Goemon was sitting on his knees on the tatami, completely absorbed in his task. Jigen joined him, preferring to sit cross-legged – seiza was fine for others, but he had no desire to break his ankles. The smell of jasmine was floating in the air, and he could hear the sound of the wind and the chirping of birds through the kitchen door, both attenuated by the distance.

Here, drink while it is still warm,” Goemon advised, pushing one of the two cups in front of his friend.

Jigen thanked him with a nod and held the cup up to his lips. The steam was already hot enough that he knew not to drink it right away. Instead he blew on it on it for a few seconds, with the nagging feeling that he was somehow contravening the rules of traditional tea drinking. There was no reaction from Goemon however, and Jigen knew from experience that he always pulled a face when his companions scorned traditions and customs in front of him. Jigen watched him from under the brim of his hat, as the samurai slowly sipped from the heavy raku cup he was holding with both hands.

“Sooo… how long have you had this house?” Jigen asked, fully aware of how ridiculous and dull his question was.

“It used to belong to my master. Being his designated successor, I received it as legacy when he passed.”

That didn’t answer much, as Jigen knew of several masters Goemon had learned from. One of them the samurai had killed himself after the old coot had tried to eliminate him by pitting him up against Lupin, for fear of being surpassed by his student. If this was the house of the dead murderous samurai master, the atmosphere would feel a lot less relaxing to Jigen.

“Where do you get food from? I didn’t see any garden around. And don’t tell me you only live off rice and green tea.”

Goemon chuckled lightly and set his cup down before him on the mat.

“There is a little village down in the valley, four to five hours walk from here. When I stay in this retreat for extended periods of time, I walk there to buy essentials and fresh food. Plain rice is fine when you are fasting, but not when you are training.”

He took another sip of tea, before adding:

“You should keep that in mind too.”

There was a glint of humour in his eyes as he said this, and Jigen scoffed at the half-concealed teasing. He knew perfectly well how to cook healthy meals, and if he enjoyed American food from time to time, that was his problem.

“Yeah, well. Veggies or no veggies, there’s no way I’ll ever be as ripped as you. So I’ll stick to my pizza and burgers, thanks very much.”

“You can eat whatever barbaric food you like when we are in Tokyo or abroad, as long as you don’t force me to do the same. But here and now you are under my roof, and you are here to rest and heal. If I so much as hear about pizza from you, I shall hit you upside the head with Zantetsuken. Understood?”

Jigen hid his chuckle behind his hat and his cup of tea.

“Yes Mom”, he muttered.

He thought Goemon couldn’t hear him, but the amused smile that stretched the samurai’s lips proved him wrong.

“Good. I prefer when you’re being reasonable and not trying to aggravate your own state.”

“Goemon! It’s fine! I was only shot in the shoulder, it’s not the end of the world!”

The samurai started raising his arm, and Jigen frantically waved his hands in front of him.

“And poking at my wound is in no way going to help me heal, man!”

Goemon simply finished the gesture by tucking a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, and Jigen let out a discreet sigh of relief.

“I will not do such a thing again if you behave. And we should look at that wound later.”

The conversation stirred away from Jigen’s injuries to more light-hearted subjects, and the gunman found himself relaxing a lot more easily than he had expected. In his daily life he was always tense, on the look-out for any potential danger, ready to spring into action at the slightest sight of a threat, no matter the situation. But here, in this remote place deep in the mountainous wilderness, it truly felt as if nothing could reach him. Nothing existed besides him, Goemon, and the most heavenly cup of jasmine tea he had ever tasted.

Jigen couldn’t have told how long this peaceful break lasted, before it was broken by the shrill of a phone’s ringing. It took him a few moments of confusion and trying to figure out why they had signal all the way out here, before he realised that _of course_ , Lupin wouldn’t have let them leave Tokyo alone without at least taking a satellite phone with them. Goemon sighed and stood up to go retrieve the phone from the depths of his rucksack.

“Lupin.”

“ _Heeeeeeyy, Goemon, pal!_ ” Lupin’s voice rose from the phone, too loud and high-pitched, making Goemon jump and briskly hold the handset away from his ear. “ _Is everything okay up there? Why haven’t you called me yet?_ ”

“We were resting. It’s a long trip to get here.”

“ _Alright, alright. You almost got me worried. How’s Jigen holding up?_ ”

“I’m not disabled, you know!” Jigen shouted with a grin from his sitting spot on the mat. “I can still kick your butt! Hey, you know what, that’s exactly what I’ll do when I get back. It will serve you right for tricking me into this vacation.”

Goemon held the phone out in Jigen’s direction so that Lupin’s voice was shouting directly at him.

“ _So you’re still alive and kicking. Great! I knew the mountain air would do you a world of good._ ”

“Sure. In the meantime, you’d better stay put and not get yourself in trouble.”

“ _Oh, don’t you worry. Fujicakes is coming over to babysit me._ ”

Lupin could probably hear the sound of Jigen facepalming all the way from Tokyo. Fujiko’s middle name was “trouble”. It was anyone’s guess though if she was there to spend some “quality time” with Lupin or to steal his share of their last heist.

“ _Oh come on Jigen, I’m allowed some fun too. I’m gonna miss you guys while you’re away._ ”

“Yeah sure. With Fujiko around, you won’t even remember we exist.”

“ _I am_ wounded _, Jigen! How could you possibly think so low of me? You know I love you just as much as I love Fujicakes, and Goemon too, and I am oh so terribly worried about your current state, I can’t sleep at night, Jigen, I-_ “

“Yeah, yeah, alright” the gunman cut him off as he grabbed the phone from Goemon’s hand. “Bisous, and all that.” And hung up.

 _Tch. French people, always so dramatic_ , he thought to himself, without really managing not to smile. Goemon’s face had turned to stone again, as it often did whenever Fujiko was mentioned. It’s not that they disliked her, not really. She was nice to be around when she wasn’t busy furthering her own interests. It’s just that whenever she was there, Lupin would throw all of his common sense out the window. Either to impress her, or to best her, depending if she was working with the gang or trying to pull the same heist before they did. Jigen was a bit taken aback by how easily she wooed Lupin. Goemon was simply baffled. He didn’t really get women in general. Or men, for that matter. Sometimes Jigen wondered if he wasn’t simply too busy with his quest for perfection and honour to care about simple matters like romance, or sex… which was a shame, really. Jigen and Lupin had, on several occasions, suggested him to join them when they were having casual sex together, but the samurai had always declined, so they hadn’t insisted. They had never raised the subject with him, and it was an accepted fact that Goemon simply wasn’t interested in the “matters of the flesh” as he had said once, to his partners’ great amusement.

Jigen set the phone down on the tatami and stood up with a groan.

“At least I’m glad to know he’s not alone…” he declared. “Maybe Fujiko can force some sense into him.”

Goemon shook his head sadly.

“Past evidence would suggest the contrary. But neither of them is here. Dealing with Lupin is Fujiko’s responsibility now.”

After this interruption, the two friends decided to cut short their break and set to work. There wasn’t much to do besides washing the tea set and unpacking their bags. Goemon also went to get some more wood as well as water from the spring, and insisted that Jigen rest his injured shoulder and not do any chores. Instead, the gunman went to unpack the bag that his companion had made for him. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the samurai had thought to bring along a few of his suits. Of course, there were also some more comfortable clothes, which Jigen would most probably shun unless this trip happened to last longer than a few days. Even if they were going hiking in the mountains, Goemon could not force him to wear sweatpants. There was also a full first-aid kit, the kind with surgical needles and thread and horse tranquilizers. Hopefully they wouldn’t need any of it…

The end of the afternoon went by in a calm silence, with Jigen reading a book, sprawled on the only futon in a position that anyone other than him would find uncomfortable, while Goemon was out and about, making trips between the house and the meadow and carrying Zantetsuken around. At some point Jigen could swear he could hear him on the roof of the house. _Probably just meditating_ , he shrugged.

When dinner time eventually came around, Goemon enlisted his friend’s help in the kitchen to cook two servings of soba noodles, with some provisions they had brought along from Tokyo. The samurai’s refusal to eat western food had led him to develop brilliant cooking skills that were a very prized asset in their little gang.

Jigen gave him a hand by cutting up a few vegetables, but for the most part Goemon took care of the cooking, and the gunman was content with watching him and passing over the ingredients he requested every now and then. The samurai worked with precise and efficient gestures; far from the demonstrative and spectacular technique one might expect from a swordsman. His work was rather slow and diligent, with the same precaution and attention to details he had used earlier while preparing the tea. It was a relaxing spectacle to watch, and Jigen lost all notion of time, observing the dance of Goemon’s hands cutting, pushing, stirring, until a delicious smell filled the whole house.

Dinner happened in the same calm and peaceful ambiance, sometimes interrupted by fits of laughter when Jigen made a joke or Goemon told an anecdote from a mission outside his partnership with Lupin. The samurai had brought out a bottle of sake from the kitchen, and Jigen had to admit he was at least tipsy, if not drunk. He felt as if he had talked more with Goemon today than he had in the entire time they had known each other. That was false, of course, but the fact that they were alone together, cut away from the outside world, in this unique and isolated environment, made him feel closer to the samurai, in an entirely new and different way than the bond they had already forged through fights and dangers.

After they had eaten, Jigen fell into a bit of a haze, and contented himself with sitting on the floor of the house and watching through the open door the setting sun paint the sky with a thousand colours. He had momentarily forgotten why he was here; all he knew was that he was safe, he was full, he was comfortably tired, his friend was by his side and he had no responsibilities whatsoever. This was quite a very rare event in his life.

He noticed Goemon sitting down next to him – even in such a relaxed place he couldn’t help but stay acutely aware of his surroundings – but he didn’t react to his friend’s presence.

“If you enjoy the view, then we should take a hike up the mountain sometime,” the samurai declared. “It is even more beautiful from up there.”

Jigen simply hummed in response.

“I’m going to take care of your shoulder now.”

The gunman abandoned the view to turn towards his friend. Goemon was holding a small tub in one hand that contained some sort of ointment, and had a clean cloth, a small pot of water and a roll of bandages set on the floor next to him.

“Ah, thanks man but I’ll do it,” Jigen replied and reached for the cloth. He froze when Goemon put a hand on his and gently but firmly pushed him away.

“It will be easier and hurt less if I take care of it,” the samurai insisted. “Now take off your shirt.”

Jigen sighed, but obeyed without complaint. There wasn’t a designated medic in their team, each of them knew how to treat basic wounds, and the gunman had had to take care of his own injuries alone multiple times. But he knew Goemon was set on doing it for him and wouldn’t let him rest until he had personally checked that his shoulder was healing properly and applied the medicine himself. Inwardly, Jigen was thankful that his friend took his wellbeing so much to heart; but at the same time, he felt a bit helpless and he didn’t like that feeling. He didn’t protest though, and unbuttoned his shirt under the watchful eyes of his self-proclaimed nurse – with some difficulties due to the sake. The evening air suddenly felt much colder against his skin, and he shivered a bit when Goemon’s fingers lightly brushed against him to untie the bandage around his shoulder. The bullet hole in his skin was an ugly thing, that had been summarily stitched up after the heist when they had gotten back to the safe house. At least it wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it was coated with dried blood that stung and stuck to the bandage. After he had removed the long stretch of fabric, Goemon soaked the cloth in water and lightly dabbed at Jigen’s shoulder. The gunman couldn’t help but whimper a bit, and cursed between his clenched teeth when his friend rubbed a bit harder to get rid of a persistent blood stain.

“Don’t move,” Goemon ordered and held Jigen’s arm in place.

“Yeah well, I’m trying. Thankfully we don’t have to disinfect it again…”

“Actually, we do.”

Jigen frowned, then glanced at the pot of greenish cream the samurai had picked up from the floor.

“What’s in that thing?” he asked with a bit of apprehension.

“Medicinal plants and Vaseline, mostly. I can’t tell you all of the ingredients. It will help your wound cicatrize cleanly.”

Jigen forced himself to relax the tension in his shoulders and let Goemon slowly rub the ointment on the wound. The gunman had expected the cream to sting like disinfectant would, and was relieved when he realised that it didn’t. The pressure on his injured shoulder hurt a bit at first, but the pain quickly dulled down as the regular passage of soft fingers numbed his skin. Goemon worked with diligence and complete concentration, as if nothing existed beside them and his duty to take care of the gunman. He didn’t seem worried or angry at the state of Jigen’s health, only calm and serene. The gunman was almost starting to doze off when his friend stopped repeated stroking and patched up the wound with a new bandage.

“There. Now show me your arm,” Goemon asked in a calm voice.

Besides the deep hole in his shoulder, the gunman had also received quite a few cuts and scratches in that fight, though none so grave as the bullet wound. They were already well on the path to healing; but he still needed to take care of his complete recovery. He docilely extended his arm and watched in a contented haze as Goemon applied the same soft paste on the few cuts on his biceps and forearm, then on his chest. Jigen did his best not to shiver under his touch, and blamed his reaction on the weird texture and cool temperature of the ointment.

“I’m done,” Goemon announced after a few minutes. “Your face is red, Jigen. Are you too hot?”

Thankfully Jigen’s unruly hair and his hat hid his widening eyes, so Goemon couldn’t notice his sudden embarrassment. He realised that his cheeks were indeed hot, and that realization did nothing to help his state.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Thanks for the help, mate.”

He briskly grabbed his crumpled shirt that had been lying on the floor, and put it back on while Goemon rose up to his feet and put away the medicine kit. He didn’t seem bothered at all by Jigen’s reaction, maybe he hadn’t even noticed it. That was a relief for the gunman.

A few minutes later, they were both dressed in pyjamas, which in Goemon’s case just meant a new pair of hakama and no shirt, and for Jigen an oversized kimono from the samurai’s wardrobe. Goemon had insisted to sleep on the floor, leaving the futon to his injured friend, in spite of the gunman’s protestations.

“I am sorry I do not have anything more comfortable for you to sleep on,” he had apologized, “but resting on a hard surface would only hurt you further.”

Jigen eventually accepted the offer, and they both fell asleep quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Goemon awoke with the rising of the sun. His friend was still fast asleep, and the samurai decided to let him rest some more while he walked out of the house and into the vast meadow. The sky was tinted with pastel colours and the air was quite fresh, although he knew it wouldn’t last. Enjoying the utter calm and silence, he took a quick dip in the nearby stream before sitting cross legged at the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley, and fell deep into a meditative state. This was more a regular habit than a real necessity in this moment, yet today it took him longer to reach the state of complete calm and stability that his meditation normally brought him to. His worries for Jigen’s health were still nagging at the back of his mind, despite the reassuring knowledge that his gunman was finally taking some time away from dangers and responsibilities.

The strength of Goemon’s feelings for his partner was overwhelming at times. They threatened to burst out, especially when he saw Jigen in danger or refusing to take care of himself, as was too often the case. The samurai didn’t know what he’d do if something were to happen to him. All he could do for now was try his best to watch over the gunman, and promise himself that he wouldn’t ever let anything happen. And all that time, he would keep to himself all the things he wished he say to him.

The sun had already risen entirely and the mountain behind him was casting a long shadow when he finally came out of his trance, feeling rested and peaceful at last. He walked back into the house to find Jigen sprawled half on the futon, half on the wooden floor, entangled in sheets, his hat covering his face from the sun. The samurai smiled to himself, and quietly walked to the kitchen, doing his best not to wake the sleeping gunman. Jigen didn’t usually sleep in late, and had a tendency to wake up in a jolt at the slightest unusual noise, so it was a rare event to see him like this. If he didn’t get up soon, however, Goemon would have to wake him. In the meantime, he set to work in the kitchen to prepare a light breakfast and some tea – nothing as fancy as the meal they had eaten the day before, just some rice with leftover vegetables and an egg, and a good cup of matcha. Goemon had even brought along some coffee from Tokyo, despite his aversion for this foul-tasting drink. He might not like it, but he knew that his partner wasn’t fully functional until he had injected a full cup of nearly-unrefined caffeine into his bloodstream.

The smell must have attracted Jigen’s attention through the haze of sleep, because this was the moment he chose to show up at the door of the kitchen. He was still wearing Goemon’s oversized blue kimono, as well as his hat hiding his unruly bed hair and still half-closed eyes.

“Smells great,” he declared with a smile. “What is it?”

Goemon stepped aside so Jigen could come closer. Of course, when the samurai cooked it was never going to be just plain rice with nothing in it. The combination of soy sauce, herbs and roasted sesame seeds really did smell amazing.

“Can you bring the tea cups into the main room?” Goemon asked while he kept stirring the preparation. “The rest will be done in a minute.”

Jigen nodded and grabbed two hand-made ceramic bowls as well as the coffee pot and the tea pot, in a complex and unstable pile that threatened to topple down at any second. Goemon shot him a threatening glance.

“I know what I’m doing,” the gunman grumbled as he stepped out of the kitchen with his carefully balanced burden.

It took in fact five more minutes for the samurai to finish preparing their meal and putting the kitchen back in order. When he walked back into the living room, he found Jigen dressed in one of his dark suits again, leaning against the door frame, cigarette in hand. Goemon narrowed his eyes. If the gunman wanted to smoke outside, that was all fine, but if he dared to drop cigarette ashes on his wooden floors or his tatami, he was going to regret it dearly. The samurai carefully put down the two bowls of rice he was carrying, and grabbed Zantetsuken which he had left propped up against a wall. Jigen turned around when he heard the sound of determined footsteps in his direction, only to be faced with an angry samurai carrying a (thankfully still sheathed) katana. In a surprised and half-conscious attempt to escape, Jigen tripped over the edge of the door and fell ass-first into the grass outside. Goemon stopped on the doorstep and stared him down with a calm but nonetheless resolute expression.

“If you smoke inside again, I will not hesitate to strike you.”

What that meant exactly was left up to Jigen’s interpretation. He knew that the samurai would never harm him without a serious reason, but he also didn’t know how serious a reason “smoking on the tatami” was. However, Goemon didn’t seem too angry at his friend, and even extended a hand to help him up. Jigen accepted it gratefully, and smothered his half-smoked cigarette before walking back inside.

They sat together on the tatami, Goemon in his usual seiza posture, Jigen resisting the urge to outright lie down like he usually did on any sittable surface.

“Eat up,” Goemon advised as he handed a bowl and a pair of chopsticks to his partner. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

“A long day? Meaning?”

“We have to walk down to the village I told you about. I couldn’t bring along enough food for our whole stay, so we need to stock up.”

Jigen frowned a bit.

“You mean the village that’s a three-hours walk away from here?”

“Yes. That’s the only one in the area. You don’t have to come along, of course. You can stay here and rest if you prefer.”

The gunman vehemently shook his head.

“And die of boredom all alone? No thanks. I’ll come with you, it will be nice to do some sight-seeing.”

Goemon smiled lightly. It was true his partner was here to rest, but a hike wouldn’t put any strain on his injured shoulder, and despite his solitary habits, the samurai wasn’t against some company. Especially not this company.

“It is indeed quite a charming village. I think you will like it.”

The walk down the mountain took them a bit longer than the promised three hours, partly to be sparing with Jigen’s health, partly because they took the time to talk and enjoy the view. Goemon was wearing his sandogasa hat and had of course brought Zantetsuken along, prompting Jigen to ask whether the villagers would be worried seeing an armed man walk through their streets. The samurai reassured him that he was well known in the area. And indeed, when they finally arrived in the quaint little village at the bottom of the valley, a small flock of noisy children came to meet them. Goemon stopped in his tracks when the kids ran to him, so as to not accidentally kick anyone over.

“I have personal matters to attend to, I have no time for you,” the samurai declared with less assurance than he would have liked. He shot a deadly glance to Jigen who was chuckling behind him, and the gunman walked over to give him a hand.

“Move over, kids, Samurai-san is busy” he exclaimed, borrowing the same nickname they were using for Goemon, and tried to shoo away the children. Some of them were scared away by his rough voice and generally unfriendly appearance, but a few persisted, and accompanied them as they walked down the main street of the village.

“Who are you? We’ve never seen you around,” one of the children asked Jigen.

“Is he your brother?” another suggested and tugged on the sleeve of Goemon’s kimono.

Jigen laughed, and the samurai shook his head.

“No. We are not blood relatives.”

“Do you think we look alike?” Jigen enquired.

“You both look dangerous,” one of the kids stated, as if that was a normal thing to say to a complete stranger. “Samurai-san has showed us what he can do with his katana. He’s really impressive. Has he shown you too?”

Jigen noticed the air of pride that flashed across Goemon’s face, and smiled. They were right, his samurai was pretty damn impressive indeed.

“Oh, he has!” he exclaimed, to the kids’ delight. “I’m sure you haven’t even seen half of what he can do with it. I’ve seen it all. In fact, he shows me his _sword_ every day.”

Goemon’s face went through four or five different expressions in the span of two seconds, ranging from confusion to shock and settling on profound embarrassment.

“Jigen!!” he finally shouted in a deeply offended voice, making his friend burst into laughter. Of course, the children hadn’t understood the particular inflexion in his voice, and were now watching the laughing gunman and the flustered samurai in complete confusion. Goemon eventually decided that the best course of action was to walk away and pretend this exchange had never happened, and Jigen nearly had to run to catch up with him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered in a merry tone that made it obvious he wasn’t sorry at all. “It was too easy.”

“I’m starting to regret bringing you along,” Goemon retorted. “It seems you have decided to replace Lupin while he’s absent.”

“Please pardon me, Samurai-san. I promise I’ll behave.”

His friend scoffed, but didn’t answer.

The children had decided against following them, and the few passers-by walking in the street only nodded at them as they passed, some shooting a surprised look at Jigen, but without making any remarks on his presence. They hadn’t met anyone else before they stepped into a small shop – more of a stand, really – and were greeted by the owner.

“Ishikawa-dono!” the woman exclaimed and bowed down. “Welcome! We’re happy to see you again.”

“Likewise, Hayashi-san,” Goemon answered, bowing down in return. “It is always a pleasure to come here.”

“Welcome to you as well, Sir,” Hayashi greeted Jigen. “I take it you are a friend of Ishikawa-dono’s?”

“Jigen is my partner,” the samurai answered while Jigen tipped his hat at the shop owner.

The woman’s mouth made a perfect “O” as she widened her eyes and looked successively at the two of them, to Goemon’s growing confusion. Then she smiled widely and gave them a knowing nod.

“I see. I didn’t know you had someone, Ishikawa-dono.”

This time, it was Jigen’s turn to get embarrassed.

“What? No! Not that kind of partners!” he stuttered, while his friend was still trying to understand what Hayashi might have misunderstood. “We work together, that’s all.”

Did the locals think Goemon was into guys? If so, they were privy information that neither Jigen nor Lupin had. Though it was probable the woman had just jumped to conclusions too quickly. Jigen preferred not to dwell on it, and followed his partner in examining the various vegetables presented by the tiny shop. It didn’t take them long to take their pick, pay for their groceries and walk out into the sunny town square.

“So, we’ve got the greens, what do we need now?” Jigen enquired while Goemon tied the bag of groceries to the end of Zantetsuken’s sheath.

“We’ll buy more bandages for you, and food. There is no way to buy fresh fish around here, but there are a few farms around so we can get meat and eggs. And we’ll need to eat here before we leave.”

Jigen nodded. “There’s nothing else you’ve planned to do, besides grocery-shopping?” he asked.

“No. There isn’t anything of interest around.”

From what the gunman had seen, Goemon was right. Besides the main street, there were maybe twenty, thirty houses around, possibly a few more farther away, but this didn’t seem like the kind of town that would have anything more sophisticated than a single café or a pub; and Jigen didn’t really feel like drinking scotch at one in the afternoon. He followed Goemon into an adjacent street leading to a hardware store doubling as a very basic drugstore, where the samurai was once again addressed by his name. There they bought the aforementioned bandages, some more disinfectant and surgical thread, and then headed out again.

Goemon then led his friend through the tiny back streets of the village, to a small place built around an ornate fountain. There were only residential houses arounds, as well as a closed pub, and the space was deserted. This was easily understandable, as the sun was hot and high in the sky and the place was far from any shops. There were two stone benches next to the fountain, which Jigen suspected was built directly on top of a spring.

The samurai made a beeline for the fountain, and set down his bag and his sword against the only one of the benches that was in the shade. Then he turned towards Jigen who was absentmindedly looking up at the surrounding buildings. 

“What are we doing here?” the gunman asked, joining him on the bench.

Goemon replied by taking out of his bag a folded cloth containing half a dozen onigiris.

“Eating lunch,” he replied as if it wasn’t now obvious. “There isn’t any restaurant in town besides this pub.” There he pointed at the darkened shop window on the other side of the place.

“I doubt they’d make anything as delicious as your cooking,” Jigen muttered, mouth half-full, after munching into one of the rice balls.

Goemon smiled despite himself. For all his seemingly annoyed remarks about Jigen’s eating, he didn’t really mind it, and couldn’t help but find the gunman adorable in his enthusiasm. Of course, he’d never tell him, as Jigen hated being described as cute or anything of the likes. But he would still think it.

They chatted enthusiastically while eating, about the village, how Goemon had come across it in the first place, about his reputation in the area. Jigen was laughing about the woman who took them for a couple, all embarrassment now forgotten. Goemon just smiled when his friend explained what she had thought “partner” meant, but he didn’t say anything. Inwardly, the gunman regretted his immediate reaction, for a reason he couldn’t quite place. He felt like he might have offended his friend, though nothing suggested that it was the case.

“Whatever it means, I’m glad to be your partner,” he offered.

Goemon nodded and smiled.

“The feeling is mutual.”

There wasn’t more to say, they both knew the reasons and history behind their mutual respect and admiration. Yet Jigen knew there was something more than a strictly professional and objective appreciation of their skills. Something more than a friendship, too. More, or different. It had been that way for a long time, and neither of them had felt the need to put words on what their partnership actually entailed, but the more Jigen thought about it, the bigger and more overwhelming it felt. It was like opening a door with the ocean behind it, and the gunman didn’t trust his ability to swim.

He suddenly realised he had been staring longingly at Goemon for a few seconds too many, and he briskly turned to look at the fountain. What was he thinking?? He had known the samurai for nearly two years now, and there was nothing more between them than a very strong friendship. Sure, Goemon was good looking. Jigen had eyes and he couldn’t deny that. He was also an incredibly skilled fighter and had saved both of his partners’ lives multiple times (besides having tried to murder them the first time they had met, but that was ancient history). They had a lot in common, and under his enigmatic and anachronistic appearance, he had learned that Goemon had a sharp mind and an endearing personality. And Jigen greatly enjoyed spending time with him. But that was IT! Goemon and him were brothers in arms, and Jigen was in a relationship with Lupin anyways – although, the word relationship had never been uttered, and he was aware than Lupin spent a lot of time chasing after Fujiko, which for some reason didn’t change anything about Jigen’s feelings for the thief.

“If you’re not eating anymore, then we will go,” Goemon suddenly declared as he stood up from the bench. “We still have things to do, and the walk back home will be long.”

Jigen shook himself out of his reverie and brushed away a few grains of rice that were sticking to his shirt.

“You’re right, we should go,” he replied in a casual tone, showing nothing of the turmoil that had agitated his mind for the past few silent minutes.

They went about the rest of their errands in the village, greeting another group of children on their way to the butcher’s shop, then headed back to the trail that crossed through the forest and up the mountain. The samurai had fastened the bag containing all their groceries to Zantetsuken’s sheath and carried it like a traveller’s staff, while Jigen was simply tasked with carrying the medical supplies they had bought earlier. The way up seemed a lot longer to the two friends, especially Jigen who reluctantly asked for a break after two hours of walk. He half expected Goemon to comment on his lack of endurance, but instead the samurai offered him a thermos of green tea that he had brought along and offered to carry Jigen’s bag for the rest of the trip. The gunman refused, insisting that he was just sore, not crippled, and they pushed onwards until they finally reached the little house nestled against the mountain, just when the late afternoon light was turning to gold. Once again, Jigen stopped in his tracks when the meadow and the valley came into view, completely taken aback by the beauty of the place. Goemon put a gentle hand on his shoulder to lead him back to the house, and the gunman promised himself that from now on he’d get out of the city more often. Preferably in Goemon’s company. Wouldn’t it be great if the samurai agreed to bring Lupin here as well? They could all take some time off, kick back and unwind together, far away from the thugs who were after their skins and the cops after their freedom.

It took them only a few minutes to put away the food they’d bought – Goemon had also requested some ice for the meat, as he didn’t own a fridge.

“I don’t suppose you have a bathroom either?” Jigen asked. “After all the exercise we did today I wouldn’t say no to a shower.”

Goemon shook his head.

“I don’t. I told you, there’s no running water. Besides, you shouldn’t wet your wound until it’s sufficiently healed.”

“I’m sure it is,” Jigen replied with an exasperated sigh. “And I can always keep my shoulder out of the water.”

“Let me see.”

Goemon stepped closer and took off his friend’s jacket, then unbuttoned the first few inches of his shirt and slid it off his shoulder. Jigen let him, because he didn’t want to argue with him this time. _And for no other reason._ He stayed still as his friend carefully untied the bandages around his shoulder, on the lookout for any telling reaction. He had been careful not to put too much strain on his wound during the day, but he knew he was often a bit careless with his health and might have pushed himself past the precautionary limit. Goemon seemed to find no argument against taking a bath however, and he simply nodded to the gunman.

“Everything’s fine. You should be back to full health in just a few days, if you stay cautious.”

“Thanks pal. So, how do you take showers around here?”

“There’s a waterfall a few minutes’ walk from here.”

Jigen suddenly punched the air, to Goemon’s confusion.

“HA! Called it!”

“Called what?”

“Nothing.”

The gunman hid his amused smile by walking away to retrieve a change of clothes from his bag, then followed Goemon outside. They walked along the stream that ran through the meadow, up a trail that lead up the mountain. They soon reached a much larger river that the stream branched off from. The sound of rushing water that had been getting louder along the way was now almost deafening. The samurai left the trail and lead his friend through the wood for a few minutes until they reached a clearing in the forest. There, a dozen massive flat rocks were surrounding a cauldron of white water poured by a huge waterfall tumbling down the mountainside. A few smaller falls flowed into the tumultuous pool, and Jigen strongly hoped it was under one of those that the samurai expected him to shower; otherwise he wouldn’t have to worry about his shoulder injury anymore, but rather about his crushed skeleton. Without waiting for the gunman to ask any questions, Goemon stripped down to his fundoshi, and calmly entered the water. Jigen hesitated only a few seconds before imitating him…

And immediately regretted it.

Goemon started when he heard a surprised yelp behind him, followed by a string of curses. The gunman had jumped into the water, assuming from his friend’s lack of reaction that it was warm, and was now hopping on the spot, splashing around and cursing at the freezing water.

“How the hell are you so calm, man?” he shouted over the noise of the waterfall. “This is like, negative thirty degrees!”

Goemon frowned.

“That’s not possible. It would freeze.”

Jigen didn’t try to explain that this was a hyperbole, and instead just quickly dipped his whole body in the water before scuttering back on land and grabbing the bar of handmade soap they had brought along. He suddenly had a newfound respect for his friend’s drastic samurai training, as well as the certainty that he himself was very happy being a sniper and not a swordsman. Goemon, on the other hand, didn’t seem to even notice the temperature of the river, and was calmly swimming towards one of the smaller waterfalls, as if this were a tropical lagoon and not a ball-freezing torrent in the mountains. His long hair was floating around his head and looked like a crown, and the water was glistening on his pale skin in the late afternoon light. Jigen caught himself staring, a bit slack-jawed, and immediately looked away and went back to his ablutions.

Okay, Goemon was good looking. That was a fact that Jigen knew. That didn’t mean he had to ogle him any chance he got! That was… inappropriate. Besides, they had seen each other naked or shirtless countless times before, without Jigen having this reaction. What had gotten into him now?

Of course, doing his best to look away from Goemon prevented him from noticing how the samurai was looking at him, with admiration and something akin to sadness or regret. Had Jigen noticed it, though, he wouldn’t have known what to do with that knowledge.

After a few minutes the gunman tentatively dipped a toe in the river again. It was still freezing, nothing had changed there, but at least this time he was prepared. He let himself slide down into the water, trying his best not to shiver, and swam towards the samurai. The latter was sitting on a rock under one of the falls, and… meditating? How could he possibly meditate with thirty gallons of water falling on his head every second?

Goemon couldn’t possibly have heard his friend approaching, but he opened one eye before the gunman even got close to him. He didn’t try to speak, which would have been useless anyway with all the water rushing around him, but simply offered his friend an encouraging smile. Jigen propped himself up on a relatively dry boulder and threw the bar of soap at Goemon. The samurai, of course, caught it effortlessly. Jigen lied down on his rock in that very uncomfortable-looking position he always chose, and looked up. The sun wasn’t setting yet, but the sky was already a deeper, richer blue and some touches of orange and pink were creeping in at the edge of his vision. Any sound that might have come from the forest was drowned out by the waterfall, and all the white noise had more or less turned off Jigen’s brain.

A few minutes passed, but it might as well have been a few hours, before a shadow appeared next to him, blocking some of the light. He turned his head to find Goemon sitting next to him, black hair slicked back and water dripping down his chest. He was looking out into the distance, either at the mountains or at some place far away in his mind that Jigen couldn’t see. The light smile of pure and simple joy on Goemon’s lips made the gunman feel a bit weak at the knees, and he was grateful that he wasn’t standing up.

“I told you it’s beautiful up here,” the samurai declared without turning to his friend.

“The view is pretty great, yeah.”

Goemon nodded, though Jigen wasn’t sure whether he himself had been referring to the panorama or to the samurai.

“Do you want to take that hike up the mountain we talked about? It’s even better up there.”

Jigen shook his head.

“Nah, I’ve had enough hiking for the day. I’ll keep it in mind, though.”

The samurai stood up and nodded.

“You’re right. We should head back now. I don’t want you to catch a cold.

“Yes, nurse Goemon…” Jigen muttered and he sat up.

Goemon was already in the water and swimming back to the banks of the river, and Jigen followed suit a few seconds later. Despite the cold that was seeping into his bones, he felt good, rested even, as if the water had cleansed some illness he didn’t know he had.

They went back home and Goemon disappeared into the kitchen, while Jigen called Lupin on the satellite phone. The thief had asked them to keep him updated on their vacation and the state of the gunman’s health, and Jigen obliged – he knew that Lupin would relentlessly call them in the middle of the night if he didn’t. Besides some lasting embarrassment at his uselessness, it warmed his heart to know that Lupin cared about him and wanted to make sure he was alright. He knew he himself would do the same for either of his partners, but still.

After dinner, Goemon insisted to rub some more ointment on Jigen’s wound, which was already healing fast, and change its bandage. They drank sake again – if they kept going at this rate, by the end of their stay the bottle would be empty. When they finally went to bed, Jigen felt calm and at peace; yet there was something buried deep inside that he couldn’t stop thinking about without being able to place his finger on. It was already well into the night when he finally fell asleep, lulled by the song of Goemon’s breathing.


	4. Chapter 4

As the days passed, they settled into a peaceful routine. Every morning Goemon would wake up first and meditate under the rising sun, then cook breakfast with a little help from his friend. Jigen would have a smoke outside the house and don one of his suits – until he ran out of them and had to wear one of Goemon’s kimonos while doing the laundry himself in the river. They made one more trip to the village at the middle of their stay, and were once again welcomed by the swarm of kids who seemed to love their “Samurai-san” so much. Most days, Goemon would often take long walks through the woods, sometimes accompanied by his friend, but mostly alone. Jigen assumed that he was training, or finding some place to far away to meditate undisturbed. It bothered the gunman a bit to stay alone for all these long hours, but he didn’t say a word. He was already enough of a burden on his friend without keeping him grounded at home. Instead, he stayed alone with his thoughts – or when they got too much, he took walks outside and let the forest ground him, without wandering too far off from the house. He didn’t know the mountains half as well as Goemon did, and although he would have never admitted it, he was worried he’d get lost.

Despite his training, or whatever other samurai duties he was fulfilling, Goemon was always back at the house with Jigen for meals, and took that opportunity to regularly check on his partner’s wound. At first it had needed treatment about twice a day, but the gunman was healing fast and Goemon was only checking on his shoulder on principle. They drank tea in the afternoon; Jigen eventually learned to make it the same way the samurai did, and once surprised him with it when the samurai came back from an afternoon errand. That time, Goemon seemed like he was almost going to say something to Jigen, but changed his mind. The gunman didn’t push it. He knew his partner wasn’t the kind to overshare, and neither was he, it would have been rude and inconsiderate to pry. Still, he wondered what might have been on Goemon’s mind in that moment, to make him look so touched and vulnerable.

They always called Lupin during dinner, swapping news about each other on the phone. Fujiko even deigned to greet them once, and even made the samurai laugh with the tale of Lupin being assisted by a policeman while disguised as an elderly man and being chased by another group of policemen. The thief assured them that he had stayed put and this specific incident was not his fault. Even if it had been, neither Jigen nor Goemon would have held it against him. They both knew full well how unruly he could get when they weren’t acting as his impulse-control. Jigen especially missed the thief’s sparkling – if not explosive – personality, his stupid jokes and his weirdly endearing clinginess. Truth be told, he just missed him – everything about him. But spending time alone with Goemon often helped him forget his homesickness.

The rest of their evenings usually consisted of peaceful conversations between the gunman and the samurai, and once or twice a heated debate on the compared merits of katanas and odachis. Sometimes Goemon would whip out a bottle of sake, and they’d drink a tiny bit too much before finally going to bed. It was on those occasions that Jigen fell asleep the most easily; on other nights, he would stay awake way into the night, troubled by many thoughts. A surprising amount of them were for the samurai.

It had been exactly a week since they had left Tokyo. That morning, when Jigen woke up, he found the sun already risen and the house empty, like most mornings. He lied on the futon for a moment, eyes half open and waiting to bring back some life into his numb limbs. The house’s sliding door was open and a soft breeze was blowing inside. He didn’t know what it was about the country side, but he had never woken up so late in the past without having pulled an all-nighter beforehand. After a moment he finally got up, battling to entangle himself from the sheets - a task in which his bad shoulder didn’t help - ran a hand through his tousled hair and put on his hat. Then he walked to the door to find Goemon sitting cross legged in the grass, a dozen feet away from the house, with his back turned to him. The gunman lit himself a cigarette and leaned back on the wall outside the house, breathing in the cool morning air and watching his friend. Goemon had most probably heard him come out, but the sound of Jigen’s lighter hadn’t pulled him out of his trance. It was only a few minutes later, when the gunman had finished his fag, that the samurai stood up and greeted him.

“I made some tea and breakfast while you were sleeping,” he declared as they both walked back in. “How is your shoulder?”

“It’s alright,” the gunman replied. “Still hurts a bit, but it’s more a ghost pain than anything bothersome.”

Breakfast consisted of rice noodles, and for once Jigen made do with drinking tea, with the intention of making himself a cup of coffee later. Goemon mentioned in passing that he was planning to use the day to train again. This time, Jigen insisted to come along.

“My shoulder’s almost healed now,” he explained, “and I can’t let my skills rust while I’m away from work.”

After some hesitation, Goemon nodded in agreement.

“You’re right. You should practice as well, if only to get back in shape.”

“Thanks,” Jigen said with a smile. “And I can also give you a hand if you need – throw pine cones at you or something.”

The samurai scoffed and hid his face behind his cup of tea. Once they had finished eating and the gunman had put on one of his trademark suits, they packed some food and their weapons and headed out into the forest.

About an hour’s walk from the house was a vast clearing in the forest. Some of the trees on the edges had actually been cut down, and there was one trunk lying down near the path. In the middle of the grass stood a series of contraptions, including but not limited to wood and cloth mannequins, a few targets, a weird machine with rotating arms and hatchets, and something that looked vaguely like a catapult. It still left a vast empty space in the middle of the clearing. Jigen vaguely remembered seeing the hatchet-throwing machine the first time he had met Goemon, but since then he had forgotten the samurai had a whole war armoury as a training ground. He let out an admirative whistle, but Goemon just shrugged.

“This used to belong to my master,” he explained, “but I haven’t used most of it in a long time. I just replace the mannequins every now and then. They tend not to last long.”

“I can imagine…” Jigen replied with a pointed look at Zantetsuken.

The gunman stepped into the clearing to examine the machines more closely, while his friend started warming up. They were all made of wood, ropes and springs, obviously handmade without the help of any manufacturing. By the look of them, Jigen wouldn’t want to be around when they were in movement. They all displayed marks of wear and tear but they seemed to have not been used in quite some time. The mannequins, on the other hand, were quite new, confirming what the samurai had just said.

Jigen turned around to where his partner was standing, only to be faced with a shirtless Goemon, hair flying around his face as he was practicing a series of extremely fast movements in the air. It took him a second to remember what he wanted to ask.

“Can I shoot that?” he finally said, pointing at one of wooden figures.

“Go ahead. That’s what they’re for.”

One second and a few deafening shots later, the farthest mannequin had five perfectly aligned holes in its body, and Jigen was already putting his Magnum back into its holster.

“Not bad,” Goemon declared with a teasing smile.

Before Jigen could retort anything, the samurai had unsheathed his sword and, in a movement made almost invisible by speed, had cut the mannequin in six chunks, severing it exactly in the places Jigen had shot it.

“Show off,” the gunman muttered, but he couldn’t help but smile. This was far from the prowess he had seen Goemon perform, but it was a highly impressive feat nonetheless.

They kept fighting the mannequins for an hour, the gunman going first each time since he was less likely to utterly destroy them; but like Goemon had said, they didn’t last long. In the end, Jigen spent a while sitting in the grass against a tree stump, watching his partner practice a series of katas, following to the letter the precisely calculated fighting patterns to perfect them.

He was practicing in a succession of lightning-fast blows and slow, deliberate movements, every muscle in his body tensing although he seemed to fight effortlessly. As with everything he did, the samurai looked like he was completely absorbed in his task, not noticing anything around him – although Jigen knew for a fact that he was still acutely aware of his surroundings. The gunman watched Goemon as he danced through the clearing, spinning and leaping, striking down invisible enemies, as if he was fighting an army of ghosts. The samurai made fighting look so beautiful, Jigen’s mind was blown away every time. He had elevated swordsmanship to an art, and in comparison, the gunman felt he himself was clumsy and slow, delivering destruction from afar while Goemon was creating beauty and grace. Sure, in both cases the objective was still killing – or whatever else they needed to do in order to defend themselves. But Goemon was different. He reminded Jigen of a butterfly, dancing around in unpredictable patterns, impossible to follow let alone to catch. So, the gunman watched in silence, with a smile full of wonder, as the samurai slashed and stabbed through thin air at enemies only he could see.

Goemon stopped his relentless dancing and sheathed his sword in one swift, practiced motion. He turned towards his friend and smiled, and Jigen felt something break in him.

Deep inside his chest, the lock of the door holding back the ocean had given in.

The samurai walked towards where he was sitting, and to give himself a front Jigen stubbed his cigarette and pulled his hat down over his eyes.

“May I request your help, Jigen?”

The gunman looked up to his friend who was now standing just a few feet from him.

“Sure,” he replied before jumping to his feet. “What do you need?”

“I’d like to try a friendly duel. I need to practice my draw.”

Jigen nodded. The samurai had explained to him before that drawing the sword was a decisive part of a fight, as much as crossing swords – speed could determine who lived and who died. Jigen understood that, as it was the same in gun fights. He remembered spending hours practicing his draw and aim in front of a mirror. And they had fought each other often enough that he knew he didn’t risk injuring his friend through an exercise. He drew out his Magnum and walked back to the edge of the clearing.

“Any last words?” he shouted to his partner in a playful tone.

Goemon closed his eyes for a second and muttered something Jigen couldn’t hear from this distance. Then he shifted his stance and put a steady hand on the handle of Zantetsuken.

A few seconds passed in utter silence, until a deafening bang shattered it, immediately followed by several more in a quick succession. The movements of Goemon’s sword were blurry, though Jigen’s trained eye could almost make out the blade cutting through the bullets launched at him at full speed. Without warning, the gunman started running around the clearing, jumping over the stumps and the remnants of destroyed mannequins and plunging behind trees, still firing at his opponent, only stopping to reload. None of his bullets reached their target. Zantetsuken practically formed a shield around the samurai.

After a minute or two of merciless shooting, Jigen finally stopped and fell back against a tree to catch his breath.

“I’m out of ammo, man,” he shouted over to his friend.

Goemon nodded and sheathed his sword again.

“Thank you for indulging me,” he declared.

“No worries. That’s what I’m here for.”

After watching the samurai practice his moves earlier, an idea had started grow in Jigen’s head, and he smiled when it finally took form.

“Hey Goemon! Think you could teach me the basics?”

His friend looked at him, a bit surprised but nonetheless pleased by the request. So far, the gunman had never shown any interest in sword fighting, besides watching his partner train and giving a hand now and then.

“I’d be happy to oblige!” the samurai replied with a wide smile. “Where do you want to start?”

Jigen shrugged.

“I don’t know, man. You’re the expert. Drawing, maybe? The stance?”

Goemon nodded then walked over to the edge of the clearing to retrieve a fallen branch. Using Zantetsuken he cut off the twigs and leaves and a part of the bark, leaving only a long, straight stick with a white handle, which he then threw in Jigen’s direction. The gunman caught it and examined it with caution.

“Sooo… that’s my sword?” he asked.

“For now, yes,” Goemon replied. “I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

Jigen scoffed but said nothing. They both knew he was a novice, and despite all his skill and self-control it was not a good idea to let him handle a legendary steel-cutting katana.

“You hold it like this,” Goemon explained while showing the stance. “Left hand on the sheath, right hand on the handle. When you draw the sword, your movement must be a straight line, to avoid friction of the blade inside the sheath. Like this.”

He then pulled Zantetsuken from its sheath, so fast that Jigen only saw a white blur of steel and wood.

“Hum… could you do it again, but a bit slower this time?”

Goemon obliged, then watched as his student reproduced the movement, with questionable success. Of course, it was hard to draw a sword from a sheath without a sheath, so the samurai eventually lent him his katana. Jigen did make some progress, but often found himself unable to not curve his movement before the blade was completely out. He persisted nonetheless, repeating the gesture dozens of times, until Goemon nodded and declared that it was good enough.

“Once the sword is out, you must strike in the same movement,” the samurai explained. “The objective is that when someone is attacking you, you can be the first to strike even though they were the first to launch the attack. On the speed of your reaction depends your ability to defend yourself from a blow.”

Jigen nodded, eyes fixed on his target – a bundle of bamboo sticks fastened together. When Goemon gave the signal, the gunman drew his sword and in one swift motion struck the bundle as hard as he could. The blade cut right through it, meeting as little resistance as if the bamboo sticks had been made of butter, and Jigen stumbled, carried away by the unexpected strength of his blow. He would have fallen down if it weren’t for Goemon’s strong hands grabbing him by the shoulders and steadying him.

“Careful. You need to strike fast, not hard,” the samurai declared and corrected his student’s stance.

Jigen followed his friend’s instructions, trying his best not to be distracted by Goemon’s hair tickling his neck and the soft breath next to his ear. It was… complicated, to say the least.

In the end the samurai estimated himself pleased with his student’s pose, and stepped away to let him practice again on another bundle. This time Jigen managed to cut through the sticks without falling arse first on the ground. Under his teacher’s watchful eyes, he struck the bundle again several times, rendering it to a mere stump. He then turned towards the samurai, who simply nodded.

“Not bad for a beginner. There’s still a lot of progress to make, but we can work on that.”

Jigen smiled and lowered his sword.

“Thanks, Goemon-sensei.”

He knew that the samurai would be much harder on him if he were an actual student. Jigen had seen his friend train, and he knew he would impose the same drastic discipline to a hypothetical pupil as he did to himself. This was just an exercise that they were both having fun with. Nonetheless, Jigen was certain he could learn some things from studying with Goemon, just like he had learned from fighting against him.

He suddenly caught a glimpse of movement next to him, and turned just in time for something to hit him square in the forehead.

“Fuck!” he shouted, not so much in pain or surprise but rather in frustration at his inability to block the attack. He had seen the projectile coming, but as he was holding the sword, he couldn’t reach for his gun, and had just stood there without knowing what to do.

A few feet away, Goemon was looking at him with an amused grin. The samurai had retrieved a handful of cloth balls filled with sand from one of the training contraptions, and was readying himself to launch another one at his student.

“Correct your stance!” he shouted at Jigen. “Right leg first! Torso facing left not front! And don’t put your arm there! It’s a sword, not a broomstick!”

Jigen followed the instructions and tried as much as he could to reproduce the stance he had seen Goemon take so many times. Still, when the samurai launched a ball at him, he found himself incapable to draw before it hit him in the head. With another muffled curse, he repositioned himself and waited for the next throw. He knew exactly the trajectory of the ball, could see in his head where and when he needed to strike it, could calculate the exact pattern of movements he needed to make… he was still too slow. What would be an infuriating series of fails for anyone else only gave Jigen a calm and cold resolution. No matter how many times he had to fail, he would strike that blasted ball.

After a dozen tries or so, finally the gunman managed to cut one of the balls in two. Goemon didn’t stop throwing, and Jigen successively cut three new projectiles before a fourth hit his chest. The samurai lowered his arm and let the remaining balls fall at his feet before walking towards his friend. Jigen was still standing in a combat stance, back hunched and sword pointed towards him, his hair falling in his face and hiding his eyes. He straightened up when he saw the samurai coming towards him, and put the sword back in its sheath like he had been taught. A glint of pride shone in Goemon’s eyes, and Jigen felt his heart beat faster.

“You’ve earned a break,” the samurai declared and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“You and me both,” Jigen replied.

Goemon didn’t look tired at all and had acted effortlessly since they had started training, but Jigen could notice the beads of sweat trickling down his torso and the rosy blush on his cheeks. The samurai reached for his sword and Jigen handed it to him with a smile, their fingers brushing for a just a split second.

They ate in a tired but content silence. Not a word was spoken, and Jigen would have felt calm and peaceful if it weren’t for the myriad of feelings hurtling around in his head.

Something had happened, he didn’t know where or when or how, but something felt different now. And yet he knew nothing had changed except Jigen’s awareness of his own feelings. He had always been close to Goemon, or if not always, for a very long time. The bond between them was something he had never had with anyone else, save for Lupin. It was a kind of love that belonged only to them. A kind of love that had evolved as their relationship moved through time, through hardships and through joys. It was impossible to pinpoint when exactly he had felt one way or another.

Yet Jigen couldn’t help but wonder…

When had he stopped loving Goemon as a friend and a brother, and starting loving him as a part of his soul ?

Goemon was completely unaware of the invisible storm that was raging just a few feet away from him. He was eating in silence, throwing occasional glances at his friend, presumably on the lookout for any sign of discomfort from the gunman. Their training had put a bit of a strain on Jigen’s shoulder, but not enough for it to actually hurt; though he had to admit he often didn’t pay much attention to his pain during fights. The gunman did his best to hide his emotions, and when they finished eating and putting away their belongings, he was as calm and composed as ever.

“Time for more training?” Jigen asked as Goemon was brushing away the dead leaves clinging to his clothes.

“I’m done for now,” the samurai replied. “Unless you want to keep practicing your swordsmanship?”

Jigen shook his head.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks. I’ll try again tomorrow, if you let me.”

“Then we should head back home.”

They had reached the path at the edge of the clearing when Jigen stopped in his tracks and called out to his friend.

“Wait! The afternoon is barely started yet, we have the whole day in front of us. Why not take that walk to the view point you told me about?”

Goemon stopped to think for a second, then nodded.

“You’re right, it would be a shame to waste this day by staying inside. I’ll lead the way.”

He pointed towards the path in the forest, and the gunman followed him. The path branched off after a few minutes and they continued upwards. The sun was almost at its highest point in the sky, but the forest roof provided a welcome shade. Goemon had put his kimono back on, and though Jigen had taken off his suit jacket he still wore his hat. Neither of them spoke, and the samurai wondered if his friend had been tired out by their training session. He doubted it, as he knew the extent of Jigen’s skills and endurance better than anyone. No, there was something else that kept his friend silent. It wasn’t unusual, the gunman spent a lot of time brooding, lost in his thoughts, and Goemon wasn’t entitled to knowing what troubled his partner. He simply hoped Jigen would open up to him about it eventually.

In the meantime, he simply enjoyed looking at him - the way he walked with fluid steps almost like a feline, slightly slouched but always ready to spring into action; how his soft and unruly hair fell on his shoulders and in his face, only sometimes showing the glint of an eye; how his dark suit perfectly embraced his body and followed his movements… Goemon felt he could watch the gunman for hours and never stop discovering new things about him.

The wonderful panorama they often glimpsed through the trees also offered a welcome distraction. The path was traced along a cliff, and oftentimes the forest would part to give a wide view of the valley underneath. A number of streams and waterfalls were flowing down the side of the mountain, shining like lines of diamond criss-crossing the grey stone under the afternoon sun. Eventually they all joined the river that was lazily twisting and turning down in the valley. With the right angle, the two travellers could even see the village they had visited the day before, a tiny spot of red tiles miles from where they were standing. Besides that one faraway anchor point and the barely visible trail they were walking on, they were completely isolated from any sign of civilisation. Only the sound of leaves and twigs cracking under their feet, the wind in the trees and the twittering of hidden birds troubled the peaceful silence.

The path was progressively becoming steeper and steeper, and the rocky trail did nothing to help their progression. After an hour or so, Jigen was starting to huff a bit, and the continued effort was getting to Goemon as well. When they finally reached a plateau, surrounded by the forest on one side and opening on the valley on the other, the gunman suggested they take a break. His friend agreed, and they both sat down on a large rock sticking out of the grassy field.

“Honestly, I think the view’s already pretty great from here,” said Jigen, eyes lost somewhere in the panorama.

“It is,” Goemon replied with a nod. “But we’ve started climbing this mountain, so we must finish it. I promise you the reward is worth the effort.”

“How much farther is it?”

“At this rate, about an hour.”

The samurai let his gaze drift to the valley, following the glittery lines of rivers flowing among the trees. He didn’t notice Jigen looking at him, hiding his face behind the brim of his hat and smiling to himself. The view might be wonderful, but it would still be there later, while this moment of peaceful harmony and the soft smile on Goemon’s lips would only last an instant. Jigen fought the urge to bury his face in in friend’s hair. This was stupid. He couldn’t be in love with Goemon. Why was this happening? Why was his heart suddenly making somersaults every time the samurai smiled at him? Why did he oh so badly want to…

_Fuck._

With a sigh, Jigen pulled his hat down over his face and stared resolutely at the valley. He really needed to get a grip. Their friendship was something too precious to take the risk of breaking it.

Beside him, Goemon had fished out a bottle of water from the bag they had brought along and took a swig, before passing it to his partner.

“The terrain is perfect for a combat,” the samurai remarked. “Do you want to train some more?”

Jigen shrugged and put the water bottle back in the bag.

“Sure. Though if you’re thinking sword-fighting, we already both know who’s going to win.”

“I was rather thinking unarmed combat,” the samurai replied. “We both have our chances there. And I’ll be easy on your shoulder.”

The gunman narrowed his eyes, feigning vexation.

“Don’t you dare treat me like a fair maiden. I’ll show you what an injured man can do!”

And with those words, he launched himself at his friend’s waist and tried to tackle him. When the samurai dodged the attack, Jigen barely managed to stay on his feet. He grumbled something and got back in a fighting position, only for Goemon to immediately try sweeping his legs – without success. The samurai started laughing. His contagious joy quickly spread to Jigen as well, and the gunman’s attacks turned into half-hearted attempts at pushing his friend down. In the end he managed to grab at Goemon’s kimono, but the samurai dragged him along in his fall, and they both ended up rolling in the grass, training and fight completely forgotten. Jigen was sure he had never heard his friend laugh so freely, and he wasn’t certain when was the last time he himself had done so.

When they finally stopped, Goemon was nearly lying on top of the gunman, propped up on his elbows, and there were tears of laughter clinging to the corners of his eyes. Jigen’s hat had fallen off somewhere, and there was nothing standing between their crossed gazes, save for a few strands of hair tickling the gunman’s face. The samurai reached a hand and gently brushed them away, leaving a trail of burning softness on his partner’s cheek. That single gesture would have sent the gunman’s heart racing, had it been capable of beating faster than it already was. Goemon’s rosy-cheeked face was mere inches from his face, his lips so close to Jigen’s own, and his eyes…

Only one thought was running through the gunman’s mind: the panicked certainty that Goemon was going to kiss him right there and then, and that he had no idea what to do about it.

Then the samurai slowly moved away.

Almost regretfully.

The fear that the moment was slipping away from him hit Jigen. He couldn’t let that happen!

Without understanding what he was doing, he reached out and pulled Goemon close, until their lips met.

The few seconds that the kiss lasted felt like a century of pure bliss, suddenly broken by a rush of cold air when the samurai moved away. His expression was unreadable, too many emotions were battling in his eyes; but his cheeks were a very eloquent shade of red. Jigen came back to his senses and the enormity of what had just happened punched him in the guts.

_Fuck._

_I broke it._

“I’m so sorry,” he stuttered, his chest suddenly clenched by panic, “I shouldn’t… I should have asked… Goemon, I’m sorry…”

“Shhh, Daisuke.”

Jigen stopped when a finger came to rest on his lips, but the sound of his name in Goemon’s mouth was already enough to silence him. The samurai hadn’t moved away, and was staring into his eyes with an expression of utter amazement.

Surprise.

Happiness.

Jigen stopped trying to understand when Goemon’s lips met his, tentatively at first, then with an irresistible tenderness that carried all of the samurai’s unspoken words in it. Jigen distinctly felt his heart melt in that exact moment, and he let himself be carried away by the wave of emotions that was rushing in his chest. Nothing else existed other than Goemon, Jigen, and the place where their lips and their feelings joined.

It felt like ages before they finally separated. The smile on Goemon’s face could have lit up the whole sky. Jigen, on the other hand, was a blushing, stuttering mess.

“I…”

A few seconds passed, while Jigen unsuccessfully attempted to put words on his feelings. Then he gave up.

“…I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Goemon simply replied.

The samurai stood up, then extended a hand to his partner. Jigen gratefully took it and pulled himself to his feet, before reaching for his hat that had fallen on the ground, and putting it back on. Unfortunately, the brim wasn’t large enough to hide the redness of his cheeks.

“We still have a long walk to the top,” Goemon declared when he understood that Jigen wasn’t going to say a word.

The gunman nodded, and followed suit when his partner made a beeline for the trail on the other side of the plateau. They walked in silence again for a long while, both lost in thoughts.

In Jigen’s case, literally lost.

He didn’t know what to do with the mess of feelings bubbling up in his chest. He loved Goemon, that much was certain. Problem was, he also loved Lupin. In a different way, yes, but still just as powerful and overwhelming. His devotion and loyalty to the thief had been guiding him for so long, and even though he doubted his feelings were truly requited, they were still as strong as the first day. He loved both of his partners with the same devastating intensity, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He felt as though the weight of the choice he had to make was going to crush him.

It took a long time before he gathered up the courage to talk.

“Hey, Goemon?”

The samurai slowed down and turned towards him.

“Yes?”

“How long have you…”

He stopped mid-sentence, but Goemon didn’t help him finish it. Faced with an awkward silence, Jigen decided to push onwards.

“How long have you had… feelings for me?” he muttered, partly wishing Goemon hadn’t heard him.

The samurai thought for a few seconds before he replied.

“A long time. Months, at least.”

Jigen’s jaw dropped.

“Fuck… and you didn’t think of telling me?”

“It would have been inappropriate. We’re business partners. And you’re in love with Lupin.”

That made sense. Somehow Goemon was so calm about all this, speaking so directly as if just stating cold facts…

A glance at his friend’s face corrected Jigen. His cheeks were an adorable shade of pink, and his eyes were resolutely fixed on the trail before him, not daring to look at the gunman.

“Was this inappropriate?” Jigen asked, clearly referring to their kiss even though he didn’t say it.

Goemon didn’t answer, he just grew redder and looked down at his feet.

“What about you?” the samurai asked eventually, after a few seconds of heavy silence.

“I…”

Jigen hesitated. This was stupid, Goemon was going to laugh. Besides, the gunman didn’t quite know himself.

“A while, I guess,” he muttered. “Though I only realised, like… today. I think. This is… complicated.”

Goemon nodded. “I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“I do. I’ve waited until now. I can wait longer.”

Jigen felt a knot tighten in his throat. He really didn’t deserve someone like Goemon.

“I just feel so lost…” he muttered under his breath.

He thought the samurai hadn’t heard him, but his partner put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Jigen turned to him with a weak smile.

“Kissing you felt nice, though,” the gunman added. “At least I know that for sure.”

Goemon returned his smile, and Jigen felt his heart melt again, for the second time in just an hour.

“And I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” he finished.

Goemon chuckled, and turned back towards the trail.

“Maybe once we get to our destination,” he replied.

Jigen nodded. That was fine by him. He could wait.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the time it took them to get to the viewpoint. They were walking a bit faster than earlier, and paid little to no attention to the landscape around them, but rather shot each other discreet glances from time to time. Jigen felt terribly like a flustered schoolgirl, and he would have resented the feeling if it weren’t for the fact that Goemon of all people was the one making him feel that way. Butterflies in his stomach? Seriously?? Yet there they were, he couldn’t deny it. It was weird feeling so happy and light headed, while at the same time having this tightness in his chest, and the looming sense that he had lost control. He tried his best to convince himself that it was a good thing.

When they finally reached the top, he was feeling slightly more at peace with himself.

The sun was far from setting, but it was getting low on the horizon, and the sky was a deep and rich shade of blue only troubled by a few strands of fluffy white. They weren’t at the top of the mountain, far from it, but the rest was just cliffs and fallen boulders, and the trail didn’t go any further. Regardless, the view was breath-taking. Wherever they turned their eyes, they could see miles away. Dozens of rocky peaks were surrounding them, interrupted here and there by green pastures that they could only glimpse through passes between the mountains. Far, far below them, the white and blue glints of the river travelled through the valley, though they couldn’t hear any water nearby. Only the wind in the trees sang behind them.

Goemon stepped closer and slipped his hand in Jigen’s. The gunman shivered under his touch and tangled their fingers together. This felt right. Why couldn’t he just accept it?

“…Can I kiss you now?” Jigen asked tentatively.

Despite his cool and composed façade, Goemon’s face turned pink again.

“I would… very much like that.”

Jigen cupped the samurai’s cheek, and placed the other hand on the small of his back. Goemon was getting redder by the second, and the gunman wasn’t quite sure whose heart he was hearing beat like a mad drum.

This time their kiss was more confident, more daring. It tasted like certainty and promises and the biting sweetness of the mountain air.

“You were right about the reward being worth the effort…” Jigen whispered in his partner’s ear, making him chuckle.

“I meant the view, Daisuke, you idiot,” Goemon muttered, trying to look away from the teasing gunman.

“Oh yeah, the view is amazing too,” Jigen added, clearly looking at the samurai and not at the panorama.

Goemon gave up trying to reason with him, and let his head fall against the gunman’s chest. Jigen took that opportunity to plant a light kiss on the top of his soft hair, while wondering why the hell he was doing that. He had rarely been so sappy and soft with any of his past partners. But then he had almost never felt love so strongly as he did now.

Almost.

The ghost of Lupin hovered in Jigen’s mind for a second, before he pushed it aside. He’d worry about that later, when they were in Tokyo. For now, he intended to savour every second spent with Goemon.

They spent a long time sitting together in the grass, in a comfortable silence troubled only by the wind. Jigen was absentmindedly playing with Goemon’s hair, while the samurai’s head rested on his shoulder. It was too early to see the sunset, but they watched as the sky slowly turned from blue to pink and a golden light bathed the valley. After maybe an hour, they stood up by unspoken mutual agreement and slowly made their way back to the house. Somewhere along the way they started chatting about one thing or another, purposefully avoiding the topic of their feelings while it hovered in the air between them.

The sun had finally disappeared behind the mountains when they reached the house after two hours of walking. It felt strange to both of them to carry on with their daily routine after what had happened between them, what was still happening, and what it meant for the future. Yet they made tea like every evening, then cooked dinner, crammed together into the tiny kitchen, and Jigen nearly burned his fingers lighting the fire in the stove, to Goemon’s consternation and immediate worry.

Lupin phoned them during dinner, enthusiastically telling them what he had been up to – apparently, he had gone sight-seeing with Fujiko, climbed up the Tokyo tower with her, and restrained himself from stealing anything. His partners congratulated him, and summarized for him their training session and their hike. Without communicating, they had both decided to keep for themselves the sudden leap forward that their “partnership” had taken. Lupin would know soon enough.

Judging by the state of Jigen’s recovery, they agreed that they’d only spend one more night and day in the mountains before heading back to Tokyo. Coincidentally, Fujiko had planned to leave the next morning, and Lupin declared that he would miss his partners too much if they didn’t come home soon. Between the lines it was obvious that he was still concerned about the gunman’s health, and didn’t like being so far away from his injured partner. The genuine worry hidden behind the thief’s voice warmed Jigen’s heart, and he was looking forward to coming home – all the while wishing his stay here with Goemon would never end. They parted with the traditional “Bisous!” that Lupin reserved to his partners, Jigen feigning exasperation while Goemon smiled to himself.

The rest of the evening went by as it always did, with sake and a friendly conversation. But at some point in the night Goemon ended up cuddled in Jigen’s arms somehow, their fingers entwined together. They would have both fallen asleep in that position if it hadn’t been for a treacherous gust of wind that forced the samurai to regretfully get up and close the doors for the night.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Jigen awoke before Goemon for once. The sun was peering through the paper panes of the sliding doors and bathing the room in a dim light. It was just enough to make out the shape of the sleeping samurai, his long hair hiding half of his face, one arm slung over Jigen’s chest and clinging to him as if he were a lifeboat. The gunman suddenly remembered that he had insisted the night before that they share the futon, instead of letting Goemon sleep on the floor. Now he fully grasped how brilliant a decision this had been. Jigen didn’t move an inch, barely daring to breath, so as to not wake up his partner. Instead, he simply enjoyed the instant. It was moments like this that meant the most to him – not the adrenaline-fueled chases and clever heists, but the in-betweens of peaceful domestic life with the ones he loved.

After what seemed to him like ages, the gunman finally gathered the courage to reach out a hand and lightly stroke his partner’s cheek. Immediately, Goemon’s eyes fluttered opened and looked up at him. There was no way to know if he had already been awake, or if the feather-light touch of Jigen’s fingers had drawn him out of sleep.

“Good morning Daisuke,” the samurai murmured.

“Good morning,” Jigen replied as he continued to stroke his cheek.

Goemon looked around him at the tangled mess of limbs and sheets.

“This is… embarrassing,” he declared in a flat voice, though a bit of blush was colouring his cheeks.

Jigen lightly pecked him on the lips before cautiously freeing himself from under the samurai. Goemon moved to help him out, and soon they were standing on the futon, looking down at the sad mess they had made of the bed.

“Should we start packing up?” the gunman asked, pointing at the bags tucked in a corner of the room.

“We have the whole day before us,” Goemon answered. “We’re not expected in Tokyo before nightfall.”

Jigen nodded and silently made his way to the door to have a smoke. The prospect of another day at Goemon’s side filled him with a kind of childish joy, but he still couldn’t get rid of that tightness in his chest. While he did miss the city and Lupin, every second brought him closer to the moment when he’d have to deal with his very tangled feelings for the thief and the samurai. That was not something he was looking forward to.

Goemon insisted that they use their last day for good and train together again. Jigen couldn’t find any reason not to, so he quickly agreed. Besides, if his partner let him use Zantetsuken again, he might be able to learn one or two tricks to show to Lupin.

The day passed much faster than they had both hoped for. This time they both used some of the animated machines to practice, and they had another duel of gun against sword, which ended with Goemon pinning Jigen down again. The gunman had trouble concentrating on his shooting after that, and simply watched as his partner cut a bunch of projectiles thrown at him at lightning speed by animated wooden arms. When Jigen practiced sword-fighting again, Goemon didn’t lend him Zantetsuken, but instead gave them both long sticks to fight with. Every fight was won by the samurai, to no one’s surprise, but Jigen did learn a lot. According to Goemon, that was the only important thing in a friendly match: the one who learns is the real winner. Jigen didn’t completely agree, but he didn’t feel like starting a debate about the philosophy of martial arts.

It was already well into the afternoon when the samurai remarked that they should go home and get ready to leave. They made a quick detour to the waterfall, then headed back to the house. Packing didn’t take them more than ten minutes, and after making sure that everything was in order, they took the path to the valley, regretfully leaving the small and peaceful mountain house behind.

The walk down to the car was spent in enthusiastic conversations about the past week and what they’d do next time they came here – they’d have to bring Lupin along of course – but once they reached the car, Jigen got very quiet and lost in thought. They didn’t talk for most of the two-hours car drive, and only listened to the radio giving them news about the outside world. As the landscape slowly turned from wild nature to tamed towns and cities, the gunman felt like the week spent in the mountains had been nothing but a flash. Everything had felt so out of time while they were there, like it would last forever, but now it seemed as if they had been speeding through it like the car was speeding along the highway. As they came in sight of Tokyo, the gunman did his best to push his worries back into some deep corner of his mind. Goemon didn’t seem too troubled, besides his usual angry maledictions at the road and the road-users – but then even after all this time it was difficult to read his face.

They parked the car at some distance from the safe house and did the last of the trip by foot. A deep feeling of peace came over Jigen as he walked through the city. Despite all the perks of the countryside, he only truly felt at home amidst the bustling activity of urban life. Goemon only displayed his usual contempt for the city, but the gunman knew that deep down his partner was glad to be back in a place where he could find sushi.

They finally reached the tiny flat they owned in a run-down part of Tokyo, and were welcomed by a very jumpy thief in striped boxers.

“Jigen! Goemon! Finally!” Lupin shouted when he opened the door. “You guys are late!”

“Some idiot on the road was driving like a thousand-years-old turtle high on taima and slowed us down considerably,” Goemon replied.

“No big deal. Come on in, you guys must be tired!”

It was obvious that Fujiko had been around not long ago, as the flat was relatively clean and tidy – Lupin only cleaned the mess when she was coming. Jigen fell over on the couch with a grunt of delight.

“Man, futons are great but I fucking missed proper furniture,” he declared before pulling his hat down on his face. “Don’t wake me up before next week.”

“Hey, you can’t sleep yet!” Lupin protested and sat down on his partner’s legs. “You gotta tell me how your trip was. And how is your shoulder doing?”

“It’s healed. I’m saved. You happy?”

Lupin dramatically turned away and sighed.

“Yes, I’m happy. It’s not like I waited here for a week with only my worries to keep me company, while my injured partner in crime went away to tend to his wounds.”

“Oh, so Fujiko has a new nickname now? Suits her.”

The thief slapped Jigen’s knee, while Goemon scoffed in the background.

“You’re truly awful, I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Jigen snorted, but he didn’t reply.

“His shoulder is healed enough that he can work again without risking aggravating his health,” Goemon intervened when it became clear that Jigen wouldn’t give any more details. “He should be careful and not get into fights or dangerous situations for at least the next week, but besides that, everything is well.”

Lupin nodded.

“Thanks pal. I’m glad you were there to take care of him.” He then turned to Jigen and pointed a finger. “You heard the nurse! No fooling around with armed thugs for the next week!”

“Yeah, sure…” the gunman replied. “Does that mean I have to let you two deal with that gang that’s after our cash?”

“Oh, don’t worry about them. I’ve sent them on a wild goose chase on the other side of the country, and old Pops is running after them as we speak. If he pursues them with just half the dedication he puts into catching me, I don’t give them more than two days, three if I’m feeling generous.”

Lupin got up from the couch, releasing Jigen’s legs.

“Good thinking,” Goemon nodded. “Now they’re not on our hands anymore.”

“We should probably keep an eye on them,” Jigen added, “just to make sure the police catch them all. I don’t want a vengeful rogue to come knocking on my door in two months to pick a bone with me.”

“Will do,” Lupin confirmed. “In the meantime, we’ve got a loooot of heists to plan! I’m so glad you two are back, we can finally start having fun again!”

Goemon smiled, and Jigen did the same behind his hat. They had both missed the action and their partner.

When they all went to bed after a dinner of leftover-flavoured ramens and a summary of what the gunman and the samurai had missed during the week, Jigen found it hard to sleep. Neither he nor Goemon had mentioned to Lupin what had happened between them the day before, and he dreaded the moment he’d have to deal with that issue. It was not so much Lupin’s reaction that he feared, but the fact that he’d have to take a decision despite still having no idea what to do with his feelings for both men. He spent several hours staring at the blinking light projected by a nearby neon sign onto his ceiling, trying to decide how he’d break the news to his partner in crime, boss and lover. When he finally fell asleep, it was already the next day.

The light filtering through the half-closed blinds in the morning was grey and dirty, and Jigen had a moment of surprise when he woke up, before realising that he wasn’t in the mountains anymore. He quickly put on a shirt and changed his sweatpants for a pair of trousers, put his hat on his head and walked out of his room. The flat was silent, and it seemed like everyone was still asleep – or meditating in Goemon’s case, as the sliver of light under his door attested. The gunman did his best to remain as quiet as possible and made his way to the kitchen to cook himself some breakfast.

So, life had gone back to normal now. Just like that. A few miles of travel and he was back to neon lights, coffee and toasts, and smoking cigarettes on a balcony. If it was so easy to change his life, he wondered, why hadn’t he done so yet? The answer was obvious: because he didn’t want to. This was the life Jigen loved and wanted to lead: cheap flats and motels, takeaway coffee in cardboard cups, city lights and skyscrapers, and the endless adrenaline of the chase, the travels, and the uncertainty of where he would be the next day. The only constant in his life for the last few years had been Lupin and Goemon, and it was all he needed to feel at home.

He was lost deep in thoughts when the kitchen door creaked and opened on a sleepy Lupin.

“Hey Jigen!” the thief exclaimed when he saw him. “Slept well?”

The gunman simply shrugged, not wanting to worry his partner with his insomnia. Lupin walked up to him and leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek, but at the last second met his lips instead. The gunman smiled as his partner busied himself with making food. Yup, he had definitely missed Lupin.

The thief was whistling some senseless melody while Jigen watched him in silence from his chair, half-finished sentences and confessions on the tip of his tongue but not daring to come out.

After a few minutes of uneasy silence, he finally took a deep breath and called out to his partner.

“Hey, Arsène?”

“Mmhmm?” the thief replied without turning towards him, though the use of his first name should have alerted him to something important.

“Do you…” Jigen hesitated for a few seconds, before finally taking the plunge. “Do you think it’s possible to be in love with two people at the same time?”

Lupin shrugged, as if this was just a mundane inquiry and not the core of the gunman’s worries for the past week or so.

“Yeah, of course.”

Jigen blinked, then stared at his back for a few seconds, waiting for the rest of his answer. It didn’t come.

“Could you maybe… elaborate on that?” he asked tentatively when it became clear that Lupin wouldn’t do so on his own.

“You know I’m in love with Fujiko, right? That didn’t stop me from falling in love with you as well.”

The noise that Jigen’s cup of coffee made when it hit the ground made Lupin jump. He briskly turned around, only to find his partner staring at him with wide eyes and mouth half open, a puddle of coffee slowly growing at his feet.

“I’m sorry, you _what?_ ” the gunman uttered.

“I’m in love with you. You knew that, right? I tell you all the time.”

“Dude, you tell the mailman you love him all the time!”

“It’s different! …Oh my God, you really didn’t know, did you?”

Lupin knelt down to put his face at Jigen’s level.

“Daisuke. I love you, man. I really do.”

He leaned in and softly kissed the gunman’s lips.

“Sh- shut up,” Jigen muttered as he looked away and pulled his hat over his face.

He got up and cleaned the spilled coffee, avoiding to look at Lupin who was now smiling, presumably at how cute his clueless partner was. The gunman had just finished cleaning when the door opened again on Goemon’s worried face.

“I heard a crashing sound. Is everything… Are you alright, Jigen?”

“Everything’s fine,” Lupin smiled. “Our boyfriend just had a small emotional shock, that’s all.”

That choice of words made Jigen’s heart leap madly in his chest, and he was suddenly grateful that he didn’t have any more coffee to choke on.

Goemon looked confused for a few seconds, before he came back to his senses.

“Ah. So Jigen told you.”

Lupin shook his head.

“He didn’t need to.”

“Then how did you- ” Jigen started.

“Since you came back, you’ve been looking at Goemon the same way you always look at me.”

The gunman and the samurai shared an embarrassed glance, making Lupin chuckle.

“Does that make us officially a family?” the thief asked in a cheerful tone.

Goemon sadly shook his head, then turned to the gunman.

“I’m sorry Jigen, but I can’t be with you if that means being related to a monkey.”

The samurai managed to keep a straight face while Jigen barely stifled his laughter.

“How dare you!” Lupin exclaimed. “I’m still your boss!”

“Then I want a raise,” Goemon retorted, still dead serious in front of Jigen’s badly hidden laughter. “Family privileges, right?”

“You guys are the worst,” Jigen muttered, trying very hard not to smile like a goofy lovestruck teenager.

Lupin exchanged a knowing glance with Goemon, then smiled.

“And that’s why you love us.”

Jigen hid his blushing face in his arms, much to his partners’ delight. No matter what the future would bring, they were both glad they got to spend it with their favourite disaster of a boyfriend.


End file.
